


The Stars Behind our Eyes

by MissWolfinger



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Attempting to Live in an Unforgiving World, F/M, Mild Gore, Monster Magic vs Spooky Magic, Original Character(s), Primitive Culture, Slow Burn, Strangers to Partners to Lovers, Violence, Wilderness Survival, Witches, monsters with a lower case m, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:08:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWolfinger/pseuds/MissWolfinger
Summary: Some people paint pictures. Some people tell tales. Surviving is your form of art; wielding weapons as effortlessly as a quill and a mind sharp enough to tread where others dare not. The horrors of the land scare you no longer but years after Monsters descended, somethingelseis spilling from the great mountain. A new horror that is poisoning your home.If you’re to stand any chance at stopping it you’re going to need help from someone who knows the Underground. But can a sickness that has been left to fester for so long really be stopped?
Relationships: Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Prelude

It was snowing the day the mountain opened wide and took its first breath of the world above. The sky was a blinding white and the haze in the air felt so sharp it hurt to breathe.

Wraith could barely see his outstretched hand before his face, and he was sure if he removed his glove the pale white of his bones would be swallowed up by the world around it. It was a pity, the shock and awe he had anticipated for so long did not live up to his expectations. But then again, very little did. His king strode forward, a hulking mass along the cliffside, and Wraith wondered where his thoughts lay. In the prison they meant to leave behind? In the stark cold with his people huddled for warmth and cautious of this new word? Or maybe he was thinking of the past, being one of the few still alive to remember this place, and perhaps he too had expectations that were not met. 

Or maybe he was thinking of the dangers of this land. It was no secret that the world above was home to monsters of a different breed. Ancient horrors spoke of in whispers lest they wake and be summoned to you. Some of the creatures were supposedly so old they existed before Souls settled into Monsters and Men. Before even love and compassion existed. 

And speaking of, there was the matter of humans denizens; smaller creatures who possessed neither the size nor horror of the monsters but were cunning and ruthless in a way that made them just as dangerous. 

Wraith turned away from the looming expanse and looked back to those who were the first of his kind to taste freedom. The group of 20 or so Monsters magically dwindled down to less than half. He wanted to laugh out loud but held back his mirth that his people who were only moments ago so desperate to leave actually shrank back inside to escape the harrowing wind and snow. But he did not fear the snow or the cold. He knew it well. Wraith hadn’t been in Snowdin for some time, the town that he once called home was always in a state of cold before it was swallowed up by the ever-rising tides of the black toxicant. But this felt familiar, and it was almost like greeting an old friend with a cold handshake.

Captain Undyne was beside him, grumbling about her guardsmen’s lack of fortitude under her breath. She had been buzzing the entire journey up the mountain's winding path. No one had expected the barrier to be broken so suddenly and all her questions about how it had come to fall had remained unanswered. She wouldn't let up about what happened in the castle’s basement; what happened to the Souls. Wraith refused to answer and that only spurred her on more. That was until Asgore, sensing Wraith's pain threatened to rip out her good eye if she didn't keep her questions to herself. Seemed his king _was_ still capable of mercy. 

“Winter,” Asgore grunted and it was almost lost to Wraith; the solemn word quickly carried off by the wind. “Whether beginning or waning I am not yet sure.” He turned and walked back up from the path he wandered and addressed his captains and the guards that hadn’t strayed from their position, shouting over the wind. “We are setting up here until the storm passes. Envoys will be sent to the rest of the Capital asking people to stay in their homes if they can but be prepared to leave. We can shelter back inside the mountain but–”

The sound of a distant scream pierced through the cry of the wind and Wraith lamented that it did not sound distant enough for his liking. It was like ice scraping on metal and a chill settled in him for the first time since leaving the mountain.

Undyne summoned a ring of spears that danced around her like an aura. She grabbed one and looked to the skies, ready to sink it into the heart of her foe with frightening precision. But nothing came. Nothing that they saw, at any rate. 

With renewed purpose, Asgore rushed past his men and spoke with more urgency. “I want fires built at the mouth of the cave and manned all day. And not fires made of magic. It’s not the light we need but the heat!” The guards who chose to shelter inside set to work, rushing into the dark of the mountain to find materials to burn. “We can _not_ let them burn out once they have been lit! Let your weapons burn if you have to. And rest while you can, Stars know you’ve earned it, but I want two individuals on watch at all times.”

“Sir,” came a voice that Wraith recognized as Blook the laureate. Just that one syllable came out shaky and broken into pieces, a testament to his fear. Blook was no fighter and was with them for ‘posterity’ as he called it. Lately, Wraith couldn’t find a single thing about their time spent under the mountain worth remembering. “What was that noise?” 

Asgore did not search for him, knowing full well the folly of looking for a ghost in a snowstorm. Instead, he turned to Wraith and Undyne before he answered. “There are not many things that venture this far up the mountain, but rest assured those that do are better suited to it than we are. Captain Wraith, I will leave this in your hands. Captain Undyne, you will accompany me back to Hotland. We must prepare our people as best as we can for what lies ahead.” 

She nodded in response before dispelling her spears barking orders to a few of her men. The bright red of her hair disappeared long before she made it to the mouth of the cave. 

Asgore didn’t follow. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Do not venture out until the storm subsides, and do not let the fires die.” 

“They won’t sire, not on my watch.” Wraith could already venture a guess as to why the fires were important, having heard of creatures made of ice that shy away from the flame. But curiosity was a creature too, and a morbid one at that. So he asked. “And what happens if they were to die?”

Asgore looked out over the cliffside and his large eyes grew hazy with a memory. The world he saw looked like it didn’t exist; it looked as bright and indiscernible as seeing stars behind your eyes. “Those that fear fire grow to love the ashes. You’d be dead by morning.” That was all he offered before following the tracks Undyne made in the snow.

* * *

Wraith didn’t sleep that night. Or the night after. Or at all really. He walked silently about the makeshift camp for the entirety of the storm listening for strange new sounds to commit to memory. There was going to be much he had to learn if he wanted to survive in this world.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning was still a long way off and the world soundly slept. Mostly. There existed plenty of things that came out at night for a plethora of reasons. Take you for example; silently meandering through the moonlit wilds as if on some romantic stroll and not looking for a man-eating monster to slay.

A rumor had begun circling around that people were disappearing near the village of Shormark, a small settlement north of the Divide. It seemed to be that unlucky inhabitants of the village were traveling out to visit their loved one’s graves but would never return. Even the occasional traveler or caravan was recorded missing, their last known whereabouts heralding somewhere near Shormark. Those who gossiped on the matter were eager to share their thoughts; it was Whispers calling them into the trees to their demise, or a sickness silently spreading that Shormark wished to keep under wraps. The most colourful theory being that unsuspecting villagers were being snatched up and sold in a secret slave ring. 

Whatever the actual cause it mattered not, you made the trip North, and shortly after arriving the rumors were confirmed to have some merit; people were disappearing near the village's graveyard but at the hands of a large, hulking monster that meant to desecrate the dead and dishonor the village. The only thing no one could agree on was whether its fur was black or brown. 

The plan was always to help out if you could, but now you were intrigued, curious to see the beast that was described. One that uprooted graves in some unholy fashion to degrade those that passed. You couldn't place what creature it could be. Typically things that disrupted graveyards were more ethereal in nature or at the very least human-esque. Not some form of dire beast. 

The stars in the sky glistened and the moon shone brightly as you traveled to the cemetery; a full moon was a good omen to hunters, at least those from your own clan. A tribe of seers who worshiped Mother Moon in all of her glory. But to you the superstitions didn’t matter; hunting under the dark veil of a new moon simply meant you too were harder to spot. 

The village’s graveyard was less than two kilometers away and you saw no signs of any tracks, no bodies, no blood trails, and no signs of a struggle raising further questions. When you reached the cemetery's edge there was no monster but you did see some of the carnage that had been described. The ground was dug up in the center, the dirt pushed off to the sides creating a ring. Headstones and wooden coffins were broken and the ruble dispersed. Whatever this was it appeared to be nesting, having chosen the graveyard as a new home. 

_Maybe those back at Shormark would be happy to know the creature had no intent to violate the dead, it only needed a place to lay its head. Hmm. Probably NOT a comforting thought,_ you mused with a smirk.

Movement from beyond the graveyard caught your attention and plain as the day yet to come was the hulking creature, perhaps similar in feature to a bear, though taller and it walked on its hindlegs. Arguably the most noticeable and off-putting feature was the arms, long and gangly hanging so low they dragged on the ground. A Wuusa’rah, you realized; a beast from deep within the Elder Burrow forest. It struck you as odd that this was to blame for almost two dozen deaths. And even odder still that there appeared to be no sign of any bodies or subsequent carrion. There wasn’t even so much as a hint of the stench of death.

While you were no expert you did know that this creature’s diet didn’t typically consist of people. They ate wild game and were skittish at best and only dangerous when backed into a corner or their territory not respected. And even then they wanted you gone, not a fight. You’ve certainly never heard of Wuusa’rah killing so many people but this creature clearly couldn't be left to its own devices. 

Having never encountered one before your options had to be weighed carefully. Its large reach could be a problem, and the razor-sharp claws spelled further trouble. Range attacks would be ideal, but there was no way it wouldn’t close the distance in seconds. You'd likely get only a few shots off and maybe one throwing blade before tactics needed to change. But where to fight it?

The northern edge of the graveyard bled into the forest. What it might provide in cover wouldn’t counteract the annoyance of dodging around trees, and fighting among the disturbed graves would be just as treacherous. Your best bet was to draw it towards you and out into the open. The monster returned to its new home and busied itself clearing the space. 

_Well_ , you thought sarcastically, _at least half the village would be happy to learn its fur is brown._. 

Staying low you crept closer to the graveyard's edge, using a dead spruce tree for cover as you repeated the plan in your head. Four javelins, four shots, you had to make each one count. You crept from behind the tree slinking closer and slipped into some tall grass on the outskirts. The Wuusa’rah had its back turned to you and it appeared to be shaking a tombstone, grunting in annoyance when it didn’t budge before bumping its head against the stone. Silently you withdrew a javelin and readied your aim before letting out a loud whistle.

It halted, ears twitching while sniffing the world around it. It made a curious sound, low and loud, not unlike the bellow of a horn before finally shuffling on its feet and turning your direction. Its large dark eyes reflected the light of the moon and after a deep breath, you moved forward stepping into your throw. The javelin loosed and struck the beast in its shoulder and within seconds you made the next throw, landing it more center, closer to its neck. 

Your eyes locked, understanding and anger marring its expression and it wasted no time to close the gap. It crouched down and dashed forward on all fours, the ends of the stuck javelins snapping off as they scraped along the ground. You hopped back and your third throw missed its mark, landing again in the shoulder. 

The second you made your final shot the hairs on your neck stood up and shivers ran down your spine. You knew before it landed that it would go straight into the eyes of the beast and you were rewarded with a deep, guttural roar. The Wuusa’rah stopped dead in its tracks and began to arduously pull the javelin free from its skull, the tip of it shining black in the moonlight. This gave you enough time to safely move forward, looking for the perfect angle before losing your throwing blade.

A spark of adrenaline coursed through you as the beast thrashed its body from side to side. The blade sunk deep into its socket and you resisted the urge to make a triumphant noise; it would do no good to blind a foe then tell it where you were.

Now with both eyes wounded the Wuusa’rah scrambled away, flailing its long arms forward as it fought for space and stumbled back into the cemetery. You silently followed and shored up your maul, there was no need to prolong any creature’s suffering. “Kills should be quick and clean,” echoed your childhood teachings. Now you simply needed to wait for an opening to approach and drive the spiked end into its skull. 

The fur on its face grew soaked with blood that glistened as it dripped to the ground and again you hesitated, thoughts straying. Wasn’t it curious that the only signs of a fight to be found was this very one? You shook away the pointless thought and raised your maul high in the air. 

_Time to end this. May your soul find rest._

The beast cradled its face as one hand continued to swipe frantically forward. With a powerful swing, you drove the maul down onto its skull, but before it made contact you were thrown back and to the ground; a searing pain blossoming into your side as the wind was knocked from you. 

You turned around in time to see a large dark figure lunge forward and you barely managed to wedge the handle of your maul between its jaws before it could sink sharp fangs down into your neck. The creature's breath was hot and smelled of rotting meat, turning your stomach as you struggled to push its head away.

There was another Wuusa’rah, only this one was smaller and quicker on its feet, but a lack of height certainly didn’t mean a lack of power. You didn’t even hear it coming before it struck and you cursed inwardly that you were caught off guard and overlooked something so critical. Long claws dug into the soft earth on either side of your head as it tried to rip your maul free from your hands. You needed a plan and quickly.

 _It has black fur. Hence the confusion in town._ your brain supplied unhelpfully. With your arms occupied your only option was to try and kick the beast hard enough for it to reel back. You looked down the length of its body to determine the best spot. 

_It’s a boy. Fantastic._

Well, at least _that_ thought held something of value.

With as much strength as you could muster and with no room to wind up, you aimed a kick between its legs, striking multiple times in quick succession before it pulled back in annoyance, freeing your maul from its teeth and swiping a sharpened claw at your head.

You rolled to the side avoiding the hit and stood up on your knees, fishing two large stones from your pocket. The Wuusa’rah readied another attack and seconds before it came down on you, you closed your eyes and swiped the sunstones against each other. 

Even with your eyes closed the blinding light flashed through your eyelids and when you opened them the second Wuusa’rah was crouched and shaking its head as if to frantically chase away the blinding spots from its vision. Your opportunity was fleeting and you stood up from your knees, stifling your sounds of pain before striking the beast with a blow that left it crumpling to the ground, the life seeping from its body and into the earth. 

_One down,_ you thought ruefully, turning your attention to the last Wuusa’rah to dispatch. Its wailing had died down into a throaty whimper as you approached, feet treading silently on the soft, turned ground. The rise and fall of its shoulder trembled as it caught your scent, turning to face you with hollow bloodied eyes that no longer held an expression. The pain in your side was settling, a positive sign that nothing was cracked, just bruised but it still hurt to raise your weapon up and you bit back another groan of pain. 

This time you settled on a different choice of parting words for the monster who wandered so far from its home. _May your soul find peace somewhere soft._

It was over in one swing and the beast landed with a heavy thud. Easing down beside it you pulled free a sharp dagger from its strap on your leg and worked the tip into its mouth, cutting away at the gums and one by one wiggling the jagged teeth free. The claws were removed after, at least the ones in any decent condition, and your haul was secured into a pouch strapped to your belt. 

You spotted your throwing blade nearby and reached down to pick it up when you saw something peculiar from the corner of your eye; a cluster of ivy vines hanging from tall tree branches near the forest’s edge. They hung right over a well-used path leading into the trees. The leaves came to a sinister-sharp point and were tipped with a dark shade of red, practically discernable in the dark of the night. A gentle swaying revealed darker intentions and its true nature for there wasn’t so much as a breeze in the air tonight. 

The truth became as clear as a stream and you understood just why there were no bodies to be found anywhere around the graveyard. It wasn’t the Wuusa’rah killing villagers and travelers, but Sanguine Ivy, a lethal carnivorous plant. Its presence was simultaneously off-putting and aggravating; had you known about it you could have used the plant to your advantage with the Wuusa’rah, possibly leading them into a trap. But the fact that it was growing here at all was a sign of much bigger problems.

You looked over to the fallen monsters who in the end, were guilty of no crime other than making a new home where they were unwelcome. It was unlikely they could have ever been successfully relocated back to the forest and you wondered what caused them to leave their home in the first place. 

At any rate, it was time to return to Shormark and inform the locals of the true killer and their serious weed problem. 

The night had cooled significantly as you traveled back, made all the more obvious by the sweat you worked up chilling on your flesh. This journey took longer as your body sorted out the pain and adjusted to its lingering presence. The blow you received sliced through your armour and the furs and leather hung in tatters by your side. Your flesh was already darkening with a violent bruise but that was certainly better than the alternative. Perhaps as payment for your help, someone in Shormark could see to stitching your armour before you set off on your next night time stroll.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a side project that I'm looking forward to sharing. It will not read in a way that the protagonist/reader is left vague so if you're looking for some y/n, y/e/c, etc, you won't find it here.
> 
> To anyone that has read this far, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
